Imaginary Folklore
by Okaeri-Kairi
Summary: Chrobin Week Day 4: In order to save his dying sister, Prince Chrom has been sent on a journey to find the daughter of the God of Death, for only the taste of her blood can heal Lissa. Along the way, he's joined by a mysterious young woman who claims she can lead him to his destination, but can Chrom really trust her to bring him to the goddess he's looking for?


**A series of short stories for Chrobin Week 2016. Each story is inspired by and titled with a line from a different song by a different artist.**

 **Day 4: Myth**

 **Song: Imaginary Folklore by Nujabes  
**

* * *

Lissa was dying; everyone knew it. In her dark room, it was easy to mistake her for a normal sleeping girl, but once anyone got too close they noticed the hot, flushed skin, the cracked lips, and the labored breathing. Every doctor in the kingdom had been sent for, but they all had the same grim look when they finished their examinations and shook their heads.

Desperate to find what ailed his youngest daughter, the king sent for a witch in secret. Chrom saw her arrive in the dead of night, hooded and foreboding, and immediately went to Lissa's room to see what she could tell them about her affliction.

The witch ran her terrible sharp nails over his sister's cheek and muttered some words that Chrom did not understand. His eldest sister, Emmeryn, clutched his hand nervously as the dark woman pulled out a bottle full of red liquid and smeared it over Lissa's brow. She continued to mutter and make strange sounds until finally, she sighed and turned to the royal family.

"She will be dead within the month," she said, her voice rasp and cold. Chrom noticed that her eyes were rimmed with black, but the rest of her face was exceptionally pale.

Emmeryn pressed her hands to her mouth and their mother broke into quiet sobs.

"Is there nothing we can do?" the king asked, a desperate note in his tone.

"She's been cursed," the witch explained. "Blighted by the God of Death himself. She must have done something to anger him."

"We don't know what she might have done," he said. "We found her collapsed in the garden one day, and she hasn't woken since."

"Whatever she did, Death will never relinquish his hold over her," the witch said, and her black eyes fell on Chrom. "However, there is one way to save her."

"What is it?!" Emmeryn asked immediately.

"In the mountains, far to the west beyond the setting sun, there is a wood. It is the realm of Death's daughter, the goddess of fallen souls. If one were to venture into those woods and return alive with a vial of the goddess' blood before the girl's time runs out, it could be used to protect her from Death's embrace. Only the taste of his daughter's blood would be enough to relinquish his hold on her."

"Then we'll send someone immediately," the king said, but the witch held up her hand.

"Any who enter the goddess' dominion without resolve will lose themselves and wander forever in her lands. Only one who truly loves the girl will be able to enter and return unscathed, but they must do so alone."

"I'll go," Emmeryn immediately offered.

"No," her father said sharply. "You are my heir, you mustn't risk your life so recklessly... even if it is for Lissa."

"But Father!"

The witch hadn't taken her eyes from Chrom even once.

"Boy, you have the mark of fate on you," she said suddenly, and everyone fell silent. "How old are you?"

"Fi-fifteen, ma'am," he answered unsure how to address her. "But I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean." She laughed, a wild, coarse bark of a sound.

"If you understood, boy, you'd be wise beyond your years. But _I_ can see it, there's something great written in your destiny. If anyone can enter the goddess' realm and return, it will be you."

"M-me?"

"Do you love your sister, prince?"

"Of course... but..."

"Are you afraid?"

"No! Well... I don't know... I'm afraid I won't make it in time."

"There's more to fear in the world than time, little prince," the witch said. "But if you wish to see your sister live, you must conquer those fears. Will you go?"

Chrom looked up at his parents and sister. All three of them looked doubtful; what could a boy, still hardly a man, do on his own? He set his teeth.

"I... I don't have the confidence that I'll succeed... but I'll go."

"Confidence is a fool's illusion," she said curtly, and reached into her hood. She pulled out a single, small feather, red as blood. "Take this. Along your travels, you may find something that brings this feather to mind. If you do, you must decide carefully. What you choose will affect your sister's fate."

He reached out to accept it. "Which is the right decision?"

"There is never a right decision," the witch said cryptically. "There is only ever a different one."

* * *

Chrom had never been on his own before. As a prince, he had always been followed around by a retinue, and he'd never gone further than the nearest town. It was wonderfully freeing and unnerving to wander the roads alone, especially when his only directions were to keep heading west, toward the faint line of mountains on the horizon.

He saw less and less people each day, and he was glad that he at least had learned how to hunt and clean game when his food stores began to run low. He'd been given a bow and a short sword, for self defense, as well as a traveling pack and a cloak, but the money he carried quickly became useless. There were few merchants to be found once away from the settlements, and it took him less than a week to reach completely uninhabited lands, lush and wild. The mountains remained as distant as ever.

He tried to increase his pace over the next few days; he had to keep in mind the return journey and Lissa was not guaranteed to last through the whole month. But each day he woke to find the mountains still hazy in the distance, and no amount of coaxing would make his horse go any faster than is already was.

 _I won't make it at this rate,_ he thought desperately as the second week began. In order to give the horse some rest, he'd had to walk on foot for several hours during the day and it was hard work once the roads were gone. It had been several days since he'd seen another human being, and the lonely monotony was beginning to chip at his resolve.

That afternoon, they crossed into a plain. The grass seemed to go on forever, a sea of green, billowing in the wind. The trees were few and far in between, small copses that offered little protection from the burning sun. As far as Chrom could tell, there was no immediate water source, so he had to trek a bit north to find a small river in which to refill his water skin.

The water was so cool that he decided to wash a bit. He pulled off his tunic and his boots and waded into the water, enjoying the cold sensation on his overheated body.

"It's been a very long time since I've seen anyone come through here."

Startled, he turned to see a girl sitting on a boulder at the river's edge. She looked young, about his age, and she was dressed in a white tunic. Her hair was long and redder than blood, rippling like liquid in the breeze, and Chrom was sure no one had been there a moment ago when he'd stepped into the water.

"Who are you?!" he asked immediately, reaching for his sword, which he'd left on the pile of discarded clothes. It wasn't there, and Chrom looked back at the strange girl to see that she was holding the sheathe almost lazily.

"A tool like this will do you little good out in these lands," she said, pulling the blade free and inspecting it. "This is the Western Wild, gateway to the domain of the gods. Which leads me to ask, rude child, who _you_ are, demanding answers from a stranger in a land you do not belong in."

Chrom swallowed, his mouth dry. If she was telling the truth, then she was likely a spirit or god herself.

"P-please, I beg your forgiveness," he stuttered. "I didn't know these were sacred lands."

"Ignorance is no excuse," she said. Her eyes were a deep brown, rich like earth. "Besides, if you are venturing in this direction, you must be seeking something divine. No human comes so far west without searching for something. What is it you seek, boy?"

"I-I've come in search of Death's daughter. My sister is dying and requires her blood," he said, avoiding her strong gaze.

"What makes you think the goddess will give you what you ask of her?" she asked sharply. "A god's blood is no simple gift; you are asking for the essence of a divine being, something that has been forbidden to mortals."

"I don't know that she will," he admitted. "All I can do is ask; my sister will die without it."

The girl stared at him for a moment; she didn't seem to need to blink as much as he did and her eyes seemed to be judging him.

"You may die on this journey," she warned.

He nodded. "I know. I am prepared."

"You are a fool," she scoffed. "Humans always are."

"I don't know how to be anything else," he said honestly.

She cocked her head, and to his surprise she smiled. It was a rather impish sort of smile, though he didn't sense any malice from it.

"I see. Well, if it's the Lady of the Wood you seek, I can lead you there," she said, resting her cheek on her palm.

"The... Lady of the Wood?"

"The goddess you seek. She is Death's daughter, but that is only one small part of who she is. She guards the souls of the dead and sends them on beyond the western edge of the world."

"You know the way to her realm?"

"I do."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't," she said, running her fingers through her hair. "Trust is a human concept. It means nothing in the Western Wild."

"Will you at least tell me who you are?" he asked. If she was a god, it would be worth knowing if he was facing an enemy or a friend.

She cocked her head, not unlike a bird. "I don't have a name," she said. "I am merely the spirit of a robin."

"Then... you're not a goddess?"

She shrugged. "There are more things in the world than you can comprehend, child. But no, I am not. Whether you take up my offer of help is up to you. What will you choose?"

He stared at her, thinking hard.

 _A spirit... Robins are good portents, portents of spring... I suppose that's why her hair is so red-_

He suddenly recalled the feather the witch had given him.

 _"Along your travels, you may find something that brings this feather to mind. If you do, you must decide carefully. What you choose will affect your sister's fate."_

 _It was a robin's feather,_ he realized. _This is the choice I must make._

He looked at the spirit again. She was still staring at him, those wide brown eyes deep and mysterious.

"Why do you want to help me?" he asked.

Her expression changed, became softer and warmer. "It's been a long time since I've met anyone so earnest," she said. "There's something about you that calls to me. Will you accept my help?"

He closed his eyes, hoping he wasn't putting Lissa's life in peril.

"Yes."

* * *

The robin was an excellent guide. She seemed to know exactly where to go and how to avoid the most difficult paths. In only two days of following her directions, Chrom immediately saw a difference in how far the mountains looked.

"Why is it that they look so near now?" he asked, awed. He could see the hills of the Wild slope upward, and it was perhaps less than a day's journey to the foot. "Before, they never seemed to get any closer."

"There's magic in the Wild," she explained, leading the horse onward. "If you wander in unaware, you will be lost forever, unable to go forward or back." He shivered at the thought of how close he'd come to such a fate.

"How much longer until we reach the Lady's domain?"

"Two days," the robin said, pointing up at the mountain. "The wood begins just before the crest of that hill. It covers the entire mountain, but to find the goddess you merely need to set foot in her realm."

"Have you met her before?"

She blinked. "Once. A long time ago."

"What was she like?"

"Like a goddess," she said simply, turning away from him. "The Lady of the Wood is the goddess of rebirth, different from her father, though it seems humans only remember her connection to him."

"Is there a reason for that?"

"I wouldn't know. I only see what I see and hear what I hear. Death and his daughter work in tandem to keep the balance of souls in the world, but they are not the same. Humans fear the things they don't understand, so rebirth means little to them."

Chrom fell silent.

"Do you know why Death might curse a young girl?"

The robin gave him a knowing look.

"I couldn't tell you how a god thinks," she said. "But it's likely your sister did something to defy him. Did she ever cheat him of his claims?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did she ever prevent something or someone from dying when Death had its hold on them?"

Chrom thought for a moment. "It sounds like something Lissa might do," he admitted. Not that long ago, his sister had nursed an injured bird back to health; he wouldn't have been surprised to hear that she'd done so again.

"Death is a jealous god," the robin sighed. "He must have his dues, and there is only one person who has ever stood between him and what he covets."

"Who?"

"His daughter."

* * *

The more time he spent with her, the more awed he was by the robin. Even if she hadn't told him so, he would never have assumed she was a human after getting to know her. Her moods were as wild as a storm over the sea, calm and gentle one moment and roiling the next. Her movements alternated between an otherworldly grace and the sharp, unexpected twitching of a bird, and her hair and clothes were perpetually blowing, even when there was no wind. Though she looked like a girl, her eyes were wise and far older than anyone he'd ever known.

He realized that he enjoyed her company. She wasn't always serious; she had a mischievous streak to her and took joy in simple pleasures. She often called his attention to small things like the sound of water running over stones, or the smell of the fresh grass, and she sometimes ran ahead, laughing, for no reason other than that she felt like it. Being near her reassured him somehow, and she was fascinating to talk to. She answered all his questions, though not necessarily in the way he expected her to, and from time to time she would ask her own questions, which made him feel dull in comparison.

"I'm afraid the human world isn't very interesting," he said, walking alongside her.

"A human wouldn't think so, no," she admitted, her bare feet hardly making a noise over his own loud boots. "But to a spirit or a god, it's a very different world. Things change quickly for humans, too quickly for us to follow. We have no fear of an end, for ends never come to us. But you all must eventually face your own ends, and the ends of all those around you." Her eyes looked rather sad as she spoke. "Even so, you don't despair. It's... compelling."

"There's nothing particularly special about it," he said. "We just... live."

"Exactly," she said, but she didn't elaborate. Chrom had no idea what she meant.

He was about to ask when she came to a stop and held out her arm.

"We're here," she said simply.

They had arrived at the edge of a dense wood. Though it was bright where they stood, the trees inside were so close together that it was dark as night. Chrom thought he could see things moving in the darkness, though he couldn't quite make out what they were.

"This is the goddess' realm?" he asked, and his voice came out in a whisper.

"It is," the robin said, her eyes fixed on the trees. "There is an altar not far from here. The Lady of the Wood will be there." She held a hand toward him; he had never touched her before, and he accepted it very timidly. Her palm was warm, like the sun. "When we enter, stay close to me. Do not let go for any reason, and keep your eyes forward; don't look anywhere else." He nodded. "You must leave the creature behind," she warned. "He will be waiting for you when you return. Are you prepared?"

Chrom looked at his horse and patted its nose. "I think so," he said, his mouth dry.

"Good. I will walk slightly ahead, so you may look at my hair if it helps you focus. The red will shine in the dark," she said, and she gave him a kind smile. Some of his fear dissipated and he unconsciously squeezed her hand in thanks.

"Do not look anywhere else," she repeated, and together, they stepped into the night.

* * *

Had the robin not been there, Chrom would never have made it to the altar. As he'd thought, there were things moving in the wood, and it took all of his focus not to turn and look at them. They made terrible sounds, a cacophony of creaking, rustling, moaning, and howling in the distance. He couldn't be sure if they were creatures or people, and not being able to see them made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

It was the robin that kept him going; her hair seemed to have a light of its own, a pale, orange light, like a dim fire, which kept his eyes firmly fixed on her. When a particularly loud noise threatened to startle him into looking, a gentle sound floated back toward him; she was whistling, a sweet calming sound that instantly reminded him to breathe and focus. They walked like this for an eternity, until finally, she came to a stop.

"This is the Lady's altar," she said, and let go of his hand. The loss of her warmth was a shock; he hadn't realized how cold it was in the wood. He shivered and took in his surroundings.

They were in a small clearing, though there was no sunlight streaming through the trees as it should. In the center of the clearing stood the altar. It was a stone, set on a small round dais. There were some faint carvings on it that Chrom assumed were words, though he couldn't make them out.

"There's... no one here," he said, and his words echoed strangely in the dark. He turned to look at the robin but she was gone. He was alone.

 _Did she trick me?!_ he thought, panicking. The witch's warning came back to him, but it was too late now to do anything about it. A terrible ache filled his heart. He'd come to trust in the robin, come to think of her as a friend. Had she ever truly intended to help him? Had it all been a lie?

His heart heavy, he took a step toward the altar. Lissa was still dying, and he had to be sure that he'd done everything in his power to save her. The cold was overwhelming, his hands trembling, but he forced his feet forward. One step, then another. Finally, he was standing right before the stone, and now it seemed he could read the words etched onto it, though he could not understand them.

"My, this _is_ a surprise."

He jumped, startled, and turned to see a stranger standing just behind him. It was a man, tall and gaunt. His eyes were a deep, dark, black, the whites almost invisible, and there was a strange smile on his face. He made a strange motion with his head, and Chrom immediately recognized that he was looking at something inhuman. His blood pounded in his ears, fear thick on his tongue.

"It's been many years since a human dared to venture into the Wood," the man said, blinking slowly. Though he looked no older than Chrom's father, his hair was pure white and looked rather ruffled. "What is it you seek, child?"

"T-The Lady of the Wood," Chrom whispered, unable to lie. The man's eyes widened and his smile became terrible, almost like a snarl.

"And what business have you with my daughter?"

 _His daughter?!_ If the man spoke true, he was face to face with Death himself.

Chrom couldn't speak for fear, and he unconsciously took a step back. Death made that strange motion again, and Chrom realized what it reminded him of; an owl, deciding on its prey.

"No need to be afraid, child," Death said, but though his tone was kind, a shiver worked its way down Chrom's spine. He stared at the boy intently, and Chrom got the impression that he was being read like a book. A moment later, Death blinked again. "I know you. I know what you want of my child, and why you have ventured so far into the Wild. You seek her blood."

"Y-yes," Chrom replied.

"You are either brave or a fool," Death said, still smiling his awful smile. "Did you hope to gain immortal life? Did you think that drinking of her blood would allow you to cheat me of what is mine?"

Chrom shook his head desperately.

"Then there is no reason for you to be here, human." His voice had become progressively colder, and Chrom's hand automatically reached behind him, toward the altar. His fingers touched the grooves of the words on the stone, and suddenly he understood.

 _"Death is a jealous god. He must have his dues."_ They were the same words the robin had spoken to him before.

"I... I have a reason," he said, and his voice shook so much that he thought he might choke. _If it's to save Lissa... I will do anything._ "I've come... to exchange my life for another," he said quietly, praying that it would work.

Death laughed. It was a high, cold sound, chilling to the bone.

"A brave fool, then. Tell me, with whom would you make this exchange?"

"M-my younger sister."

Death stepped forward and took Chrom's chin. He examined his face carefully, turning it to both sides. "Ah, I see. Your sister is under my curse; she cheated me of a cat who had fallen in a well. It was a small offense, it's true, but she did it with pride and defiance in her heart. Death is not something for a human to play with, and all living things weigh the same in death," he said coldly. "But I am not an unfair god, child. If you are willing to take her place, I will remove my curse from your sister."

"I-I'm willing," Chrom said, shutting his eyes tightly. "Take me instead." _I'm sorry Lissa, Emmeryn... Mother, Father... know that I loved you all._

But instead of pain, he felt a warmth spread through his fingertips, and he realized that someone was holding his hand.

"You have done well."

He opened his eyes to find the robin smiling at him, and Death immediately let go of Chrom.

"You!"

"Hello, Father," she said calmly. "It has been a long time."

Death did not reply, his eyes went from the robin to Chrom and back.

"He is under your protection, then?" he said suddenly, and the robin nodded.

"He is. I wanted to be sure of his character before I gave him what he sought."

Death sighed. "It is just like you, daughter, to use your own father for such a simple reason. Very well, I will not take him. But are you certain you trust this boy with your blood?"

"Trust is a human concept, Father," the robin said, and Chrom saw that there was a mischievous glint in her eye.

The god chuckled. "That it is." He turned back to Chrom. "Child, I will allow you to remove my curse; I cannot undo it myself, you see. Only the Lady of the Wood has the power to restore life."

"Th-thank you," Chrom said weakly. He thought his legs might give out from under him.

"You are fortunate. The Lady does not protect those she deems unworthy." But before Chrom could say anything else, Death vanished. A moment later he thought he could hear the faint hooting of an owl above the trees.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"That I was the goddess you were searching for?" the robin asked, a sly smile on her lips.

"Yes, it would have saved me-"

"Only humans think in terms of saving time and effort," she said sharply as they walked. The woods seemed less forbidding now, and there was a warm green light everywhere. Chrom was told he was free to look around, though there was no trace of the creatures they'd seen on their way in. "You could have taken my blood back at any time, but without proving the strength of your resolve, it would have been as useless as any tonic. Your willingness to sacrifice yourself for your sister's sake is what will save her, not the blood itself."

"Then..."

"I will give you what you came for and your sister will be saved," she said.

They had reached the end of the wood. The horse was there, waiting just as she had promised.

"Hand me your blade," she said, and he obliged. She unsheathed it and held out her arm. She cut into the crook of her arm and a red line of blood began to flow freely. She pulled a small glass bottle from thin air and let the drops fall into it. When it was halfway full, she corked it and handed it to him. The wound had disappeared.

"You will find that the way back through the Wild is easier," she said. There was something sad about her eyes, and Chrom felt his heart tighten slightly.

"You- You aren't coming with me?" he realized, a feeling of despair filling him from within.

"Not this time," she said softly. She pressed a hand to his cheek. "I learned much as your guide. About humans, and about you," she murmured. Her thumb brushed over his lips, and Chrom felt his heart catch in his throat. "Perhaps even about myself," she said. She made to pull her hand away but Chrom hurriedly held it in place.

"Don't," he said. "I don't want to say goodbye. I..." But he didn't know what he was going to say.

"Farewells are a-"

"If you say human concept, I'll kiss you right here and now," Chrom said suddenly. She blinked, surprised, then laughed, her face full of color.

"A human concept," she said, and Chrom made good on his promise. She was warm, like the sun, and she smelled sweet, like a spring bloom.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked, when he finally pulled away. He held her close, his face buried in her wild, red hair, unwilling to let her go.

"What is it?"

"If Death had taken me in Lissa's place... would I have been able to stay at your side?"

"...Yes. But it would not have been a happy existence. The dead who die before their time spend hundreds and thousands of years regretting and despairing. It twists them, turns them into shadows of themselves. Those are the creatures you heard when we entered the Wood."

"Then... will I ever see you again?"

"It depends."

"On?"

"If you love me. There's magic in emotions that strong. If you truly love me, you will be drawn back here, one way or another."

"I... I don't know," he said truthfully. "But I'd like to find out. Right now I don't even have a name to call you by."

She smiled. "But I already told you my name. You've known it all along."

"You mean... you lied?"

"Perhaps," she laughed again. "I told you; Death's daughter is only one small part of who I am, just as the Lady of the Wood is another small part. I am also a Robin, just as my father is an Owl. That's my name."

"Robin," he repeated, and kissed her forehead. He begrudgingly let her go and pulled himself up into his saddle. "I'll come back to you someday, no matter what," he said, feeling like his heart would break. But Lissa was waiting, and there was no time to waste.

As he rode away, he turned back to look at her one last time.

"I'll come back, I promise!" he called again.

"I'll be waiting, forever if I have to!" she shouted in return. "Even if it's only when you die... I trust you'll come back to me, Chrom!"

She had never used his name before, and Chrom felt himself smile even though he wanted to cry.

On the journey home, he was constantly accompanied by the faint sound of wings and a high, sweet robin's song.

* * *

 ** _"The announcement for the final train is clearer than usual_**

 ** _I stare blankly at the sky, as always, my eyelids heavy_**

 ** _I close my eyes, and from far away, I hear your voice_**

 ** _It's time for me to get going."_**


End file.
